The story of the week for October 17 to 21 is…
October by Deborah Tapper
HUGH CARTWRIGHT: No Place Like Home
Children scour tanks left crippled among the dying trees.
A bloated body in khaki, abandoned by retreating troops, is fought over by crows, greedy and fractious.
Rushing out, the woman stares; one glance at what remains of his face is enough. She screams and collapses.
It’s the road to hell.
Formerly a University scientist, Hugh is now retired and living in the Pacific Northwest, where writing provides a diversion from his doomed attempts to grow Canadian oranges. His stories have appeared in Nature Futures, Foxglove Journal, Meniscus, The Drabble, Grey Sparrow Journal, and elsewhere.
STEVE SWALLOW: The Gift
I was given a cup filled to the brim. The content was delicious, and I drank it down. In the morning, the cup was again full, and I took it with me into my day. Realizing others didn’t have cups, I shared mine, knowing it would be full again soon.
Steve Swallow is a carpenter who likes to build with words!
DEBORAH TAPPER: October
Another monochrome day. She replaces it with flamboyant forests, endless lapis skies. He’s waiting, joyous. They run through dazzling colours, carefree, fingers entwined. Sunlight warms their faces, ripe berries bursting across laughing tongues.
A granddaughter drops by, finds her in his favourite chair. Still smiling, faded photographs tumbled like leaves.
Deborah writes at an old desk surrounded by five hundred pet bugs.
GARY THOMSON: Remembering Sophie
Midmornings, from her clusters of roses and multi-hued tulips, the flower seller selects a sprig of rosemary. Places it on the brass stumbling stone nearby, framing the inscription: Sophie Kleffmann. Taken 10.21.1942. Murdered at Treblinka.
Each dawn the street cleaner sluices away the flower, leaves radiant flecks like pomegranate seeds.
Gary Thomson writes micros, riffs his Hohner harmonica, and reads historical fiction at home in Ontario.
AMY PRICE: Younglings
In the frosted woodland spotlights they danced,
whimsically, of course, as Younglings should,
to a melody of whistling Robins and crispy, crunchy leaves.
And all the while, they plucked blackberries,
staining fingers and lips purple,
igniting giggles,
as sweet as this moment of childhood magic
before the clipping of wings.
Amy Price is a creative writing student from Wales.
EILEEN MARDRES: Someday
She calls herself Helene.
Life has stripped away previous names, earlier existence. Now she quakes in terror, hiding so completely as to be almost invisible, hiding in the darkest corners of her mind. Some day she’ll emerge as a butterfly. First she must find the strength to become a chrysalis.
Eileen enjoys turning life into short memoirs, poems, and 50 word stories, finding stories in all of everyday life.
LARINA WARNOCK: Haunted Waters
There are things they don’t tell you about living on this coast.
How the fog can roll in at any time, day or night. How the wind carries in long-dead souls who cling to your skin like mist. How the different life you wanted becomes the last life you lead.
A one-time teen mother and high school dropout, Larina Warnock holds a doctorate and is an educator on the Oregon coast. She lives with her husband, three dogs, and a turtle.
JENNY LOGAN: London, 1992
“I don’t beg blokes. If you’re leaving, I’ll help you pack.”
Emma took what she overheard from the next table as advice. She stubbed out her cigarette.
“New rule,” she wrote in her notebook. “Ten minutes maximum. Time’s up.” She ripped the page out and left it under the ashtray.
Jenny Logan wrote this story.
DEIRDRE SMITH: Angel of Courage
She takes off her armor: her wig and her smile.
Another day battled; another day conquered.
She is pale. Her cheeks are sunken.
Some may mistake her for frail, but she is a warrior.
She stares at her new self in the mirror, unsure whether tomorrow will be the same.
Deirdre Smith has dabbled in writing for as long as she can remember. She is a part-time Guidance Counsellor and all-the-time mom. She resides in St. John’s, Newfoundland. This piece was written for Childhood Cancer Awareness month (September) in memory of her cousin Becky Courage.